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The brochure of the Volvo B5LHC with the 'Son of Routemaster' (SRM) bodywork by Wrightbus, which failed to gain ground. This Euro 6 electric hybrid has opportunity charging, a 19,000kg GVW and an 87-passenger capacity, with only two used on route 37 from 2018 to 2022.
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In today’s Vatnik Soup, we introduce Vincent Bolloré, a French billionaire and media tycoon. He’s best known for building a powerful media empire and for reshaping editorial lines across French media and publishing, pushing them toward far-right and pro-Kremlin positions.
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Born in 1952 in Boulogne-Billancourt to a family of industrialists, Vincent studied law at Paris Nanterre University. He took over the family business and turned it into a sprawling conglomerate spanning logistics, port infrastructure in Africa, advertising, and media.
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Bolloré’s African logistics empire also became the subject of a long-running corruption investigation in France. Legal proceedings against Vincent Bolloré personally are still ongoing, with a trial planned in December, after a judge refused to approve a plea deal.
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Above and beyond the law, but sits on the cabinet and according to reports has been passing sensitive information to more than one First Minister.
This is precisely what a separation of powers is supposed to prevent. A brief refresher…
This is precisely what a separation of powers is supposed to prevent. A brief refresher…
The separation of powers doctrine exists to prevent tyranny & safeguard individual liberties by dividing state authority into distinct, independent branches—legislature, executive, & judiciary—to ensure no single entity has unchecked control of law-making/enforcement/adjudication
The doctrine is designed to eliminate both undue influence and the appearance of bias across government.
The failure to establish hard boundaries between the branches in Scotland raises legitimate concerns that government actions could be tainted by political self-interest.
The failure to establish hard boundaries between the branches in Scotland raises legitimate concerns that government actions could be tainted by political self-interest.
Ukraine’s Ambassador to the US, Stefanishyna: If Russia had any real desire to negotiate or compromise, there would be zero obstacles.
Ukraine has shown openness and flexibility in every format proposed, including by President Trump. The aggressor never had real intent. 1/
Ukraine has shown openness and flexibility in every format proposed, including by President Trump. The aggressor never had real intent. 1/
Stefanishyna: Ukraine’s capabilities are now seen and felt by Russia on its own territory.
They deprive Moscow of the ability to attack Ukrainian cities and kill more families. That pressure is one reason Putin is being forced back toward the option of dialogue. 2/
They deprive Moscow of the ability to attack Ukrainian cities and kill more families. That pressure is one reason Putin is being forced back toward the option of dialogue. 2/
Stefanishyna: Ukraine is depriving Russia of the fuel of war, literally fuel, but also the resources Moscow gains from selling products abroad and using sanctions waivers to finance aggression.
Deep strikes cut the money and capabilities that keep Russia’s war going. 3/
Deep strikes cut the money and capabilities that keep Russia’s war going. 3/
Gen. Wesley Clark: Putin is trapped. He sees no way out that preserves his survival as Russia’s leader, so he keeps pushing and hopes Trump’s friendship, Chinese help, Iranian help and U.S. distraction will cut support to Ukraine until Ukraine somehow collapses. 1/
Clark: Putin really believed he could seize Kyiv, capture Zelenskyy, shoot him in the street and take over, despite 10 years of war already showing Ukraine’s resistance.
He did not understand the spirit of Ukraine and was blinded by his own desire. 2/
He did not understand the spirit of Ukraine and was blinded by his own desire. 2/
Clark: Putin is not a military leader. He is an intelligence man. Stalin knew armies, fear and losses from war.
Putin knows war from books, but he does not know it. That matters when fantasy meets a battlefield that refuses to obey. 3/
Putin knows war from books, but he does not know it. That matters when fantasy meets a battlefield that refuses to obey. 3/
Obidients to Obidients: Build your X account, You can earn on X and be happy.
Gain 600 mutuals, Just Say Hello 👋 ✌️
Gain 600 mutuals, Just Say Hello 👋 ✌️
To make money on X, you must follow the following guidelines:
1. You must have at least 2,000 with at least 500 verified accounts following you.
2. Get your blue tick with # 7600
3. 5 Million impressions : To get your 5 million impressions, turn on my post notifications. Be active under my post, I will give you visibility. Also connect with others influencers like Daniel Regina, etc . Lastly connect with foreign influencers especially from Japan and America, turn on their posts notifications and engage them politely.
4. Monetize your account by connecting your open stripe account where you connect your bank
5. Impression on your post from every verified account connecting with you organically.
6. Every two weeks you get paid..
Bookmark and share others and tell others...
1. You must have at least 2,000 with at least 500 verified accounts following you.
2. Get your blue tick with # 7600
3. 5 Million impressions : To get your 5 million impressions, turn on my post notifications. Be active under my post, I will give you visibility. Also connect with others influencers like Daniel Regina, etc . Lastly connect with foreign influencers especially from Japan and America, turn on their posts notifications and engage them politely.
4. Monetize your account by connecting your open stripe account where you connect your bank
5. Impression on your post from every verified account connecting with you organically.
6. Every two weeks you get paid..
Bookmark and share others and tell others...
Connect with this Obidients
@Nigga_Richiee
Turn on his post notifications
@Nigga_Richiee
Turn on his post notifications
10 DARK PSYCHOLOGY TRICKS MEN USE TO FUCCCK WOMEN.
Men only. Take notes.
Men only. Take notes.
1. PACKAGE YOURSELF, LOOK GOOD, SMELL NICE. COSTS HER NOTHING
First impression is war.
Clean fade. Fitted clothes. Good scent. Calm posture.
You don’t need money. You need presence.
First impression is war.
Clean fade. Fitted clothes. Good scent. Calm posture.
You don’t need money. You need presence.
Women don’t fall for wallets first. They fall for the illusion of stability.
Look like a man with options before you ever speak.
Look like a man with options before you ever speak.
“The Moment After Death” #Excerpts by Carli B. Frueh - set for release July 4, 2026 📚📖🎆
*Unabridged notables*
In The Moment After Death, the living and the crossed work together, using real Hemi-Sync techniques—to rescue souls stuck in fear on Earth. 🌎
This isn’t fiction. This is the bridge we’re all being called to cross. As the Soul traverses Earth’s planes.
Chapter 13:
The Harvest of Densities - In Loving Memory of David Wilcock
“I want to be part of the seeding,” she said. The words left her lips and became butterflies of living light that scattered across the tiers, landing on every explorer’s heart. “Let me carry the message back through the dream-state to the ones I love. Let my story be the first lullaby of the new era.”
The flame answered with a single, resonant chord that shook the spirals of auroras and sprites overhead. The Great Remembering had found its first willing weaver.
And somewhere far below, in the year that would soon dawn as 2026, a small boy in a Midwest bedroom would close his eyes to the sound of his mother humming a single, unfamiliar tune. He would drift, weightless and unafraid —and for the first time in his short life feel the quiet thrill of waving at his own sleeping form. He would not know yet that a woman named Mayla—recently arrived, fiercely loving, utterly alive in her new address—had just stepped into his dream to say “hello”.
Nobody gets out of this world alive, the explorers reminded the gathering with gentle laughter that rippled like water over stone. But you signed up for this. It’s why you are here in the first place. Mayla lifted her hand, and the thought-world responded with a soft, expectant hush. The next chapter of her journey was no longer waiting, it was now. The voices of the voiceless were calling her name, in the voices of children yet to dream.
*Unabridged notables*
In The Moment After Death, the living and the crossed work together, using real Hemi-Sync techniques—to rescue souls stuck in fear on Earth. 🌎
This isn’t fiction. This is the bridge we’re all being called to cross. As the Soul traverses Earth’s planes.
Chapter 13:
The Harvest of Densities - In Loving Memory of David Wilcock
“I want to be part of the seeding,” she said. The words left her lips and became butterflies of living light that scattered across the tiers, landing on every explorer’s heart. “Let me carry the message back through the dream-state to the ones I love. Let my story be the first lullaby of the new era.”
The flame answered with a single, resonant chord that shook the spirals of auroras and sprites overhead. The Great Remembering had found its first willing weaver.
And somewhere far below, in the year that would soon dawn as 2026, a small boy in a Midwest bedroom would close his eyes to the sound of his mother humming a single, unfamiliar tune. He would drift, weightless and unafraid —and for the first time in his short life feel the quiet thrill of waving at his own sleeping form. He would not know yet that a woman named Mayla—recently arrived, fiercely loving, utterly alive in her new address—had just stepped into his dream to say “hello”.
Nobody gets out of this world alive, the explorers reminded the gathering with gentle laughter that rippled like water over stone. But you signed up for this. It’s why you are here in the first place. Mayla lifted her hand, and the thought-world responded with a soft, expectant hush. The next chapter of her journey was no longer waiting, it was now. The voices of the voiceless were calling her name, in the voices of children yet to dream.
Chapter 13
The Harvest of Densities: In Loving Memory of David Wilcock
Mayla drifted out of the amphitheater’s final golden chord and into a hush so complete it felt like the pause between one heartbeat of the cosmos and the next. Here, the white lilies she had once glimpsed in the meadow had unfurled into an endless living lattice—each petal a shimmering mandala of light-geometry, breathing in unison with the One Infinite Creator. The auroras of the thought-world still danced at the periphery of her awareness, yet this new stillness was more intimate, more ancient, as though the indigo veil that had first cradled her beyond the operating table had simply grown vast enough to hold every soul who had ever yearned to remember.
Anaya walked beside her, no longer merely guide but co-creator, her bronze-and-gold form catching starlight the way ocean waves catch moonlight. Her eyes, deep as forgotten seas, reflected every density Mayla was only beginning to sense.
“The Great Remembering is never the end of the teaching, beloved Mayla,” Anaya murmured, her contralto voice weaving through the silence like a single wave kissing an eternal shore. “It is the doorway. What dreamers seed in the night, the Law of One names in full. One Infinite Creator experiencing Itself through every veil, every choice, every crossing—service-to-others or service-to-self, love or fear, unity or the illusion of separation.”
Mayla’s translucent fingers traced faint violet-and-gold mandalas that bloomed and dissolved like breath upon still water. The old echoes of Sunday-school thunder—Pastor Jones’s flames, Reginald’s lakes of sulfur, the flatline wail that once promised either streets of gold or eternal torment—now seemed impossibly small, like children’s shadows cast by a lantern the soul no longer needed. “Tell me again, Anaya,” she whispered. “Not the fragments I caught while I wore the yellow-ray body, but the whole. The fundamentals Ra spoke through Carla, Don, and Jim—the living truth that cracked open the world for seekers like David Wilcock. I feel it humming here, like memory returning before it was ever lost.”
Anaya’s smile held the patience of densities long since mastered. “When the yellow-ray shell is gently laid aside, the indigo-ray body—the form-maker, what some ancient traditions called the ka—activates. It cradles the mind/body/spirit complex through the life review, not as courtroom judgment but as pure, luminous perspective. Every choice of polarization shines: bright with service-to-others, dim with service-to-self. No throne. No lake of fire. Only light meeting light.
Mayla drifted out of the amphitheater’s final golden chord and into a hush so complete it felt like the pause between one heartbeat of the cosmos and the next. Here, the white lilies she had once glimpsed in the meadow had unfurled into an endless living lattice—each petal a shimmering mandala of light-geometry, breathing in unison with the One Infinite Creator. The auroras of the thought-world still danced at the periphery of her awareness, yet this new stillness was more intimate, more ancient, as though the indigo veil that had first cradled her beyond the operating table had simply grown vast enough to hold every soul who had ever yearned to remember.
Anaya walked beside her, no longer merely guide but co-creator, her bronze-and-gold form catching starlight the way ocean waves catch moonlight. Her eyes, deep as forgotten seas, reflected every density Mayla was only beginning to sense.
“The Great Remembering is never the end of the teaching, beloved Mayla,” Anaya murmured, her contralto voice weaving through the silence like a single wave kissing an eternal shore. “It is the doorway. What dreamers seed in the night, the Law of One names in full. One Infinite Creator experiencing Itself through every veil, every choice, every crossing—service-to-others or service-to-self, love or fear, unity or the illusion of separation.”
Mayla’s translucent fingers traced faint violet-and-gold mandalas that bloomed and dissolved like breath upon still water. The old echoes of Sunday-school thunder—Pastor Jones’s flames, Reginald’s lakes of sulfur, the flatline wail that once promised either streets of gold or eternal torment—now seemed impossibly small, like children’s shadows cast by a lantern the soul no longer needed. “Tell me again, Anaya,” she whispered. “Not the fragments I caught while I wore the yellow-ray body, but the whole. The fundamentals Ra spoke through Carla, Don, and Jim—the living truth that cracked open the world for seekers like David Wilcock. I feel it humming here, like memory returning before it was ever lost.”
Anaya’s smile held the patience of densities long since mastered. “When the yellow-ray shell is gently laid aside, the indigo-ray body—the form-maker, what some ancient traditions called the ka—activates. It cradles the mind/body/spirit complex through the life review, not as courtroom judgment but as pure, luminous perspective. Every choice of polarization shines: bright with service-to-others, dim with service-to-self. No throne. No lake of fire. Only light meeting light.
“From this indigo sanctuary, the entity may step into the green-ray body of fourth-density love if the harvest is ripe, or return once more to third-density Earth to gather what was left unfinished. Time/space becomes the true classroom—healing, remembering, teaching. The densities unfold like petals of a single cosmic rose: first the dance of elements, then life, then self-awareness, then love, wisdom, unity, and finally the radiant return to the One. Wanderer, souls from higher densities—volunteer to descend into the forgetting so they may serve the harvest, lighting lamps in the illusion so others may find their way home.”
Before them, the meadow of white lilies opened again, each petal now pulsing with living akashic records—souls in transition, their light signatures braiding into the infinite tapestry of the One. Mayla felt a gentle tug toward one particular shimmer. A newly arrived essence settled into its form-maker body, indigo light flaring around a familiar silhouette recognized not by flesh but by the collective field that ripples through every plane.
David Wilcock.
He coalesced slowly, as though the decades spent translating ancient truths into modern tongues still echoed in his energy. Tall, earnest, eyes that had once gazed into cameras and screens, weaving the Ra Material into books, lectures, and broadcasts that reached millions. Here, in the after-death state, his essence rested within the indigo body while the life review unfolded—not as accusation, but as living light. Mayla watched in shared reverence as scenes from his Earth walk played across the luminous field: late-night revelations, synchronicities that led him to Carla Rueckert’s channeling, tireless hours crafting Wisdom Teachings that made densities and harvest accessible to a world hungry for unity. The struggles were there too—the mental shadows, the tests of polarization—but through every distortion, the unwavering choice to serve.
Anaya’s presence warmed the space between them like remembered sunlight. “See how the planes receive him? From this indigo locus he heals what the yellow-ray shell could not. He reunites with echoes of Carla, Don, and the Ra collective itself—connections forged across many incarnations. His work seeded the very Remembering we now weave into dreams. The harvest he spoke of is not a single calendar date but a living invitation, souls choosing love over fear, service over self, unity over separation. Even now his legacy radiates outward, aiding harvests far beyond his knowing.”
Mayla felt something like tears—though no longer wet—trace her ethereal form. “He crossed the same veil I did, yet his voice prepared the path for souls like mine. The planes… they honor the service.”
“Indeed,” Anaya replied softly. “The One Infinite Creator experiences Itself through every crossing. David’s journey reminds every wanderer and seeker: even within the density of forgetting, the call to unity never ceases.”
Before them, the meadow of white lilies opened again, each petal now pulsing with living akashic records—souls in transition, their light signatures braiding into the infinite tapestry of the One. Mayla felt a gentle tug toward one particular shimmer. A newly arrived essence settled into its form-maker body, indigo light flaring around a familiar silhouette recognized not by flesh but by the collective field that ripples through every plane.
David Wilcock.
He coalesced slowly, as though the decades spent translating ancient truths into modern tongues still echoed in his energy. Tall, earnest, eyes that had once gazed into cameras and screens, weaving the Ra Material into books, lectures, and broadcasts that reached millions. Here, in the after-death state, his essence rested within the indigo body while the life review unfolded—not as accusation, but as living light. Mayla watched in shared reverence as scenes from his Earth walk played across the luminous field: late-night revelations, synchronicities that led him to Carla Rueckert’s channeling, tireless hours crafting Wisdom Teachings that made densities and harvest accessible to a world hungry for unity. The struggles were there too—the mental shadows, the tests of polarization—but through every distortion, the unwavering choice to serve.
Anaya’s presence warmed the space between them like remembered sunlight. “See how the planes receive him? From this indigo locus he heals what the yellow-ray shell could not. He reunites with echoes of Carla, Don, and the Ra collective itself—connections forged across many incarnations. His work seeded the very Remembering we now weave into dreams. The harvest he spoke of is not a single calendar date but a living invitation, souls choosing love over fear, service over self, unity over separation. Even now his legacy radiates outward, aiding harvests far beyond his knowing.”
Mayla felt something like tears—though no longer wet—trace her ethereal form. “He crossed the same veil I did, yet his voice prepared the path for souls like mine. The planes… they honor the service.”
“Indeed,” Anaya replied softly. “The One Infinite Creator experiences Itself through every crossing. David’s journey reminds every wanderer and seeker: even within the density of forgetting, the call to unity never ceases.”
Ru telecoms are facing issues when it comes to the adoption of 5G. The provided frequencies by the state will not yield an increase in the data transfer speeds and only 3% of devices support them. Adoption will lead to 84 billion rubles in losses for telecoms.
The adoption of 5G in Russia will cost in terms of capital expenditures for Russian telecoms over 355 billion rubles til 2036. Of this 286 billion rubles will be spent on the B2C segment. Network development for this segment will lead to a loss for telecoms of 84 billion rubles.
The B2B segment on the other hand could become a driver for profits leading to 63 billion rubles in profits till 2036. However with the allocated frequencies in Russia for telecoms in the f 4,8–4,99 GHz range 50% to 100% more base stations will have to be built.
SitRep - 05/06/26 - Putin does not want to meet Zelensky
An overview of the daily events in Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Putin said Peskov showed him Zelensky’s letter yesterday and said he sees no point in meeting the Ukrainian president.
REPOST=appreciated
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An overview of the daily events in Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Putin said Peskov showed him Zelensky’s letter yesterday and said he sees no point in meeting the Ukrainian president.
REPOST=appreciated
1/X
Missed the latest?
As usual we start with Russian losses
STOP TELLING CHATGPT "HUMANIZE THIS TEXT".
Bad Prompt = Bad Result.
Here are 7 prompts that can humanize AI written texts in 5 seconds 👇
Bad Prompt = Bad Result.
Here are 7 prompts that can humanize AI written texts in 5 seconds 👇
Prompt 1 — The Master Humanizer
Most people type "make this human" and pray.
This is the ONE prompt that fixes 80% of AI-sounding text in a single shot:
"Act as a professional human editor and rewrite the following text so it sounds naturally written by a real person, not an AI. Keep the original meaning, but improve rhythm, flow, transitions, and tone. Avoid robotic phrasing, repetitive patterns, and overly formal wording. Text: [paste text]."
Bookmark it. The next 6 stack on top 👇
Most people type "make this human" and pray.
This is the ONE prompt that fixes 80% of AI-sounding text in a single shot:
"Act as a professional human editor and rewrite the following text so it sounds naturally written by a real person, not an AI. Keep the original meaning, but improve rhythm, flow, transitions, and tone. Avoid robotic phrasing, repetitive patterns, and overly formal wording. Text: [paste text]."
Bookmark it. The next 6 stack on top 👇
Prompt 2 — Natural Flow Humanizer
AI writes like a metronome. Same length. Same beat. Easy to spot.
This prompt breaks that rhythm:
"Rewrite the following text [paste text] so the sentences connect more naturally and flow like authentic human writing. Vary sentence lengths, improve transitions, and remove any mechanical or formulaic phrasing."
Result: text that breathes.
AI writes like a metronome. Same length. Same beat. Easy to spot.
This prompt breaks that rhythm:
"Rewrite the following text [paste text] so the sentences connect more naturally and flow like authentic human writing. Vary sentence lengths, improve transitions, and remove any mechanical or formulaic phrasing."
Result: text that breathes.
